


Average Dick

by Bunnywest



Series: Home 'verse [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Top Peter Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 15:24:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17144273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: Peter pulls back from kissing Stiles and cups his jaw. “Stiles, are you telling me you want me to fuck you tonight?”He wants to be clear before they start anything.Stiles gives him an uncertain smile. “Yes?”





	Average Dick

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Twisted_Mind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/gifts).



> Merry Christmas to Twisted_Mind, who asked for Stiles's first time bottoming.  
> I hope you like it, lovely!

 

Stiles loves college, takes to it like the proverbial duck to water. He loves meeting new people, learning new things, broadening his horizons. He especially loves taking the hot new Research Assistant for lunch and soaking up the admiring glances they get as they sit across from each other, obviously A Couple. Peter can feel the smugness rolling off him, doesn’t need his werewolf senses to know that Stiles enjoys showing him off. Peter doesn’t mind – he rather likes showing Stiles off as well, wrapping a possessive arm around his waist as they walk around campus together.

Sure, there are weeks where Stiles has assignments due and he’s overworked and cranky, and those are the weeks where Peter will step in and take charge, making sure Stiles gets some sleep and remembers to eat. When Stiles whines about how he’s not a little kid, Peter will firmly remind him that he’s been there himself, remember, and Stiles had to some and dig him out of that particular hole, so would he please just shut up and drink the smoothie Peter’s made him since he’s too damned stubborn to close his laptop long enough for a meal?

And Stiles will grudgingly drink the smoothie, and later he’ll let Peter drag him to bed and make him sleep after taking time to reassure him that of course he’s going to pass, and yes, he’s done enough work. And the assignment will come back with top marks and Peter will smirk, not even having to say, _‘I told you so,_ ’ his face doing the talking for him.

They’re happy. They spend their days working and studying. They go for a ten mile run every morning because Stiles still loves running, and Peter loves Stiles and wants to make him happy, even though he silently curses Derek every day for introducing Stiles to the concept of early morning exercise. Stiles appreciates him making the effort though, and he often shows his appreciation in the shower once they get home, either with his hands or that sinfully talented mouth, and Peter thinks that maybe it’s worth getting up after all as he tangles his fingers in Stiles’s hair and comes down his throat with a deep groan.

They make it though their first semester with only a couple of small arguments – who left the laundry in the washer till it smelled funky, who left wet towels on the end of the bed, petty domestic shit like that. Peter honestly thinks life couldn’t get much better for them.

Every so often though, he’ll catch Stiles watching him with a speculative look. Stiles is normally on his laptop at the time, and he’ll glance from the screen to Peter to the screen, sometimes frowning, sometimes considering. Peter doesn’t know exactly what Stiles is looking at and he doesn’t ask – Stiles is a grown man, nineteen next birthday, and even if he is watching porn (and judging by the sounds that Peter’s wolf hearing picks up, he _is_ watching porn,) who is Peter to tell him what to do?  Stiles doesn’t seem aroused by whatever it is he’s watching - it’s more the face he wears when he’s tackling a particularly difficult question. Peter figures that Stiles will tell him in his own sweet time – he normally does.

And sure enough, they’re sitting watching a rerun of Jurassic Park one evening, and Stiles keeps glancing across at Peter, biting his lip. He’s uncharacteristically quiet, and Peter can tell something’s going on in that enormous brain of his, so he waits it out. He’s not prepared for what Stiles says when he does speak, though.

“Your dick’s not that big. It’s smaller than mine.”

It catches Peter off guard, and he shoots Stiles an unimpressed look. “Firstly, I beg to differ, and secondly, rude. Anything else you’d like to complain about? Nose too long? Ears too big?”

Stiles shakes his head and huffs. “No, it’s not – I’m not complaining. I’m just _saying_. You have an average dick.”

“Oh, well as long as I’m _average._ ” Peter doesn’t know where this is going exactly, and he’s not sure he wants to. “What’s your point exactly?”

Stiles climbs onto Peter’s lap, straddling him and draping his arms over his shoulders. “My _point_ is, I’ve been doing some research. You’re not that big. And I think, if we took it slow, that you’d probably fit.”

It takes Peter a second to catch on to what Stiles is talking about. Fit what? Where? And then Stiles grinds down against him and pulls him into an absolutely filthy kiss, and all the pieces slot together.

Oh.

Peter pulls back from kissing Stiles and cups his jaw. “Stiles, are you telling me you want me to fuck you tonight?” He wants to be clear before they start anything.

Stiles gives him an uncertain smile. “Yes?”

He smells nervous, but not afraid, not unwilling. Peter nuzzles into the crook of Stiles neck, breathing him in, and yes, there’s arousal under the uncertainty. Stiles wants this. Peter wraps his hands under Stiles’ thighs and stands, carrying him through to the bedroom without further ado.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter lays Stiles on the bed, and then he lays down next to him, pulling him in for a kiss. They make out for a while, nothing more than kissing and running their hands over each other’s bodies, slipping them under the hem of each other’s shirts. They’ve done this part before, often enough that the familiarity of it settles Stiles, puts him at ease, which is what Peter was aiming for.

They’re both hard, grinding against each other, and so far it’s nothing they haven’t done before, but there’s a frisson of excitement, the knowledge that this time will be different. Peter hopes he remembers how to make this good, hopes he doesn’t blow his load in four seconds, hopes Stiles doesn’t ask him to stop, because he’s wanted this for so long, he might cry if it doesn’t happen.

He wasn’t lying when he told Stiles this was his choice to make and he’s happy to wait, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t dreamed about it, fantasized about exactly how good it will feel. And now it’s happening, Peter hopes he doesn’t blow it. Something of what he’s feeling must be running through the pack bond, or maybe Stiles just knows him that well after all, because he nudges at Peter and says, “Hey, big guy. Stop overthinking,” with a soft smile on his face.

Peter responds by stripping them both out of their shirts and bracketing Stiles with his forearms, almost pinning him to the bed, but not quite. “I want this to be good for you, sweetheart, and it’s been a while,” he admits. “I might be nervous.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows in surprise. “ _You’re_ nervous? I’m the one taking a giant dick for the first time. I think I get dibs on being nervous.”

Peter hums. “I thought you said it wasn’t that big.”

“Yeah well, _objects in mirror may be larger than they first appear_ ,” Stiles quotes. “Now that I’m looking at it again, it’s pretty decent.”

“Be still my beating heart, I’ve been upgraded to _decent,_ ” Peter says drily, and then sets to works placing soft open mouthed kisses up and down Stiles’s ribs, distracting him from any further conversation about the size of Peter’s dick (which is definitely not just average, thank you very much).  

Peter knows all the places to nip just a little harder to make Stiles moan and squirm, and he works him over expertly, bruises blooming and fading as he worries at the flesh with blunt human teeth and revels in the whimpers and moans Stiles lets out. He finally pops the button on Stiles’ jeans and drags the zipper down with his teeth, and Stiles groans with the relief of finally having his cock spring free of its confines. Peter eases Stiles’s hips up and drags the jeans down and off, along with his underwear. “I’m going to make you come first, baby, get you relaxed. Sound good?”

Stiles hums, and Peter takes that as a yes. He takes just the head of Stiles’s cock in, running his tongue around it, before easing the whole thing into his mouth. He feels Stiles’s hands gripping tightly in his hair, guiding him up and down, and he hears the long moan Stiles lets out, and knows this part won’t take long. Stiles is heavy against his tongue, the taste of precome salty and thick, and Peter revels in it. He’s always enjoyed this, loves the rush of power he gets when he brings Stiles off just using his mouth. He bobs and sucks and hums, all the things his boy loves, and it’s not long before Stiles is making desperate little thrusts up into his mouth, tiny _uh uh uh_ noises escaping him, a sure sign he’s close. Peter goes for broke, relaxing his throat and taking Stiles all the way down, swallowing around him and making Stiles whimper when he comes suddenly. Peter holds Stiles in his mouth while Stiles’s hips make tiny, jerky movements and he lets out one last spurt of come. Afterwards, Stiles’s  whole body goes limp, like a puppet whose strings have been cut, and he just lays there breathing heavily for a moment, before he says, “Yep. Relaxed now.”

Peter laughs quietly, slides out of his own jeans, and arranges them so that he’s the big spoon. Peter’s hard, and his erection presses against Stiles’s ass when he curls up around him, but he ignores it for now. This is about making sure his pup’s ready for this, that he enjoys it. So he just runs his hands over Stiles’s chest and stomach, long, lingering touches, and murmurs in Stiles’s ear how beautiful he is, how lucky Peter is, how he can’t wait to make him feel good, and Stiles responds to the praise and the touch, relaxing even further in Peter’s arms.

Finally, Stiles rolls away onto his stomach, and with a smirk, he reaches over and grabs the bottle of lube they keep next to the bed, tossing it towards Peter. Peter doesn’t need to be told twice.

It’s easy enough to work up to three fingers. Peter somehow finds it soothing, familiar, as Stiles rocks back against his hand in a silent plea for more. Peter finds his prostate and teases him till he’s hard again. Stiles takes a sharp breath and tenses up when Peter squeezes his pinky in, but then he breathes out slow and long, and Peter feels the muscles relax around him. “Stiles?” he asks quietly.

“It’s fine. It’s just…a lot,” Stiles tells him. “Go slow.”

Peter obeys, easing his fingers in at a glacial pace, then easing them out again, managing to fit in a little more each time, until finally Stiles is stretched out, the muscle soft and pink against Peter’s hand. “ _Fuuuuck_ ,” Stiles groans out, and Peter stills.

“Need me to stop, pup?” Peter’s ready to remove his fingers if Stiles needs him to and call the whole thing off, but Stiles shakes his head vigorously.

“It’s, jesus, it’s _so fucking good_ ,” Stiles moans.  He moves so he’s on his hands and knees and looks back over his shoulder at Peter, eyes dark with desire.  “I’m ready Peter, come on. Fuck me.”

Peter lets out a slow, shuddering breath at the sight of Stiles presenting himself like an offering, and tamps down sharply on the wolf part of him that wants to hold Stiles down by the scruff of his neck and slam into him without mercy. Peter wants this to be memorable for them both, wants to take his time, go slow and gentle, make it last. So instead he slips his fingers out, tugging gently at Stiles’s rim and marveling at the way it’s so soft and pliable under his fingers. Stiles is right – he’s ready. Peter slicks up his cock with a ridiculous amount of lube, and settles behind Stiles, hands on his hips to steady himself. “Breathe deep, and push out,” he says, before pressing slowly forward. Stiles opens for him  beautifully, and head of his cock pops in through the tight ring of muscle and into the wet heat of Stiles’s ass.

Peter has to close his eyes and count to ten so he doesn’t come right then. He hears a high pitched whimper and realizes that it’s Stiles. But he doesn’t smell like he’s in pain, and he hasn’t said stop, so Peter stays where he is for a few moments longer, giving Stiles time to adjust, running a hand down his spine and drawing a few stray tendrils of pain away, barest traces of grey running up his arm, more of an ache than anything. It makes Stiles breathe a little easier, and he pants out, “You can move.”

Peter sinks in another inch, then two, then three, and finally he’s all the way in. It feels incredible. Stiles manages to speak. “Fuck, Peter, I can feel you in my _ribs_.”  Peter would make a crack about how that’s not possible, what with him only being average, but he’s honestly too busy holding himself back right now. He pulls almost all the way out, and then pushes back in. Stiles makes a sound like he’s been punched, but it’s followed by a heartfelt “ _Fuuuck, yes_ ,” so Peter takes it as a good thing.

“Ready for more, pup?”  Stiles nods, and Peter sets up a slow, steady pace, the pull and drag of Stiles’ soft flesh against his cock heavenly. He never wants it to end, but it’s too good, and Peter knows he won’t last long.  

Stiles lets out a filthy moan, which doesn’t help _at all_ , especially when he pants out “Harder.”

Peter gives up, gives in, no longer trying to keep control. He holds on to Stiles tight, hips snapping forwards, fucking in hard and deep. Peter’s desperate, couldn’t stop now if he wanted to, and Stiles must be able to sense it too, because he reaches under himself and starts to stroke his cock in time with Peter’s thrusts. Stiles is making those tiny growls and whines he makes when he’s close, and it barely takes a minute before he comes all over his hand with a sound that’s awfully close to a howl.  The feeling of Stiles’s body tightening around his cock drives Peter to slam in one last time before he’s still, his orgasm roaring through him, unstoppable and terrifying in its intensity. Peter’s wrung out and breathless by the end of it, plastered along Stiles’s back.

Peter closes his eyes, breathing deeply for a moment. So much for taking his time, he thinks.  He manages to gather himself enough to pull out, drawing a groan from both of them. Stiles melts bonelessly into the mattress and Peter follows him, rolling them onto their sides. He curls up behind Stiles, ignoring the mess for now, and Stiles wiggles and presses back against him with a satisfied sound. “Fuck, Peter. Why did I wait so long?” he asks, and Peter can smell the contentment coming off him. “I mean, holy shit, that was something else. We’re definitely doing that again,” Stiles continues.

Peter nuzzles in, smiling against the skin of Stiles’s neck, placing kisses there. “Anytime, sweetheart.” He can’t help but add, “I wanted to take my time pup, go slow and gentle, but I couldn’t help myself. I promise I’ll last longer next time.”

Stiles rolls over in his arms so they’re facing, and stretches out a hand, running his fingers through Peter’s sex-mussed hair. “So it was hard and fast. We can aim for long and slow next time.” He gives Peter a tiny, satisfied smirk. “And when I say next time, I mean as soon as my ass recovers.  I mean, thank god for werewolf healing. How the hell do normal people even walk after doing this? Cause I gotta tell you, it aches. In a good way, but I can definitely feel where you’ve been.”

Peter huffs out a laugh at Stiles’ ramblings. “Can I take it from all that that you enjoyed yourself?”

“Mhmm. Definitely. ” Stiles moves, and pulls a face. “Sticky.” Peter kisses the tip of Stiles’s scrunched up nose, and gets out of bed. He comes back with a warm washcloth and proceeds to clean up the mess they’ve made while Stiles hums at the touch of the damp cloth against his skin. Peter drops the cloth to the floor and pulls Stiles close and they lay there, enjoying the flood of endorphins still chasing around their system.

Peter can't help but ask, as they lay there on the edge of sleep. "So, when you say you were doing research, do you mean all that porn you've been watching?"

Stiles squirms. "Shut up. I was trying to imagine how it would feel, and I've always been a visual learner. It was very educational, okay?"

Peter laughs. "If you say so, pup."

* * *

 

 

He fucks Stiles again an hour later, and this time they _do_ take it slow.

 

 

 


End file.
